The deeper he went, the more fear he felt, because after running such a long distance, he still hadn't seen any core—only flesh spreading in the darkness.
Could it be that this thing has no core, or is it a collective consciousness made entirely of cores?
However, the formless flesh clearly had no intention of letting Lance continue to roam around, as more flesh constantly emerged on the path.
A distorted pig head emerged from the morphed flesh, opening its mouth to roar, the irregularly growing layers of sharp teeth inducing a sense of trypophobia.
Devour alive!
As soon as the pig head appeared, it lunged to bite Lance, but he reached out with both hands, directly grasping the pig head's upper and lower jaws, forcefully halting its gnawing motion.
"You think you can eat me?"
Under Lance's exertion, the pig's mouth was forcibly pried open, the collision of fangs and gauntlets making a crisp snapping sound—a struggle between strength and biting force.
"Hah!"
